99 Rules, Part 11

men suits hats

11. Appreciate your parents. When they die, you become an orphan.

My folks are in their mid 70’s now, living several states away. Every time we go visit them, they say something like “Wow, I cant believe how big your kids have grown!” I guess it means I don visit as often as I should. That being said, I do make it a point to call them every Sunday. Usually, it is 15 minutes of chatting about updates on how everyone is doing.

Being a father helps me appreciate the time and effort that they put into raising us. Had it not been for us, my dad could have pursued his dream of flying. He flew a Cessna back in college. But then with the wife and kids, he had to give up that expensive hobby in return for a family and knowing he did the right thing.

Author: Jim Johnson

As a man in his early 40's, I grew up on a dairy farm in an irreligious home. Disgusted with the choice of women out there, I looked into religion to find a worthwhile mate. At 23, I joined the LDS (Mormon) faith, married, became a civil engineer, and now have six children. My favorite things are puppies, long walks on the beach, and the color blue (not really).

181 thoughts on “99 Rules, Part 11”

  1. ’Twas ohioing, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and pilot in the wabe:
    All winky were the gymbros,
    And the 1%er bikes outgrabe.

    “Beware Jabberwoktastico, my son!
    The steel toe boots, the hands that do pushups!
    Beware the western hat wearer, and shun
    The Viking King and royal one!”

    He took his Machine gun in hand;
    Long time the beta foe he sought—
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree
    And stood awhile in alpha thought.

    And, as in bullshit thoughts he stood,
    The Jabberwocktastico, with royal features of fame,
    Came lone wolfing through the wood,
    And spoke only scots gaelic as it came!

    Girlie Girls! Girlie Girls! And through and through
    They worshiped his snicker-snack!
    He left them alpha widow dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

    “And thou cannot slay the Jabberwocktastico?
    As even the doctor creams over his arms!
    O frabulous .59 growth day! Callooh! Callay!”
    He chortled in his joy.

    ’Twas dancing for thousands, with slithy toves
    Did he gyre and gimble in the ohio:
    All manly were the automobile bench presses,
    And the Patriarchy christmas raths outgrabe.

  2. ” Appreciate your parents. When they die, you become an orphan.”

    – Parents reap what they sow. If they are good ones, then yes agree they should be appreciated. I had one that was uninvolved, but I do miss him from time to time. As for the other one? Good riddance.

      1. That’s great Jim.
        Having an involved father who is also a life long mentor can give a guy a big leg up in life.

      2. don’t tell your parents about the kids..show them…ship ’em over there for a few days while you and the Mrs. go on a meth and bourbon bender

      3. That’s great Jim.
        Having an involved father who is also a life long mentor can give a guy a big leg up in life.

    1. “For all genders, adolescence is marked by fissures: cutting off childlike
      ways, even childhood friends, and relying less on family.”

      – “All genders”…WTF???
      I only know of 2. And they are determined by chromosomes.

      1. Here in Mexico, we dont have this nonsene. Nothing but alpha hombres here. In fact, my homie, El Chapo, wanted me to wife up his daughter at her quinceanera. Just so she has a true, alpha hombre and not some weak niño. Jej.

        1. Hey Amigo, next quinceanera you attend, ask around if any senoritas need help with their loans del studente, will ya?

          1. Amigo, I can give it a shot, but the mamacitas in Mexico arent like the ones you’re used to, and jej, they are looking for a certain type of hombre. You can try and maybe do some game if you give her a bit of tequila, but even then, its gonna be like the last stand at the alamo, and you *dont* want to know what side Im on

        1. Growing up we had “Patriarchy Christmas”.

          At the time I didn’t know it was that of course. It was set up and enforced, very rigorously, by my grandmother. She’d set out all of the nutcrackers in the front room and fill the dishes with walnuts, nigger toes, pecans, and other assorted nuts. My favorite cracker was the one that looked like a steering wheel on an 18th century ship. She’d buy cases of beer and a couple of bottles of wine, and of course, all of he dinner fixins.

          Dinner would start being prepared the day before and we’d all enter her house to the smell of heavenly delights. Grandpa would be in the front room reading Trading Times or an auto mechanic book, and would get up and greet us as grandma came out of the kitchen behind him.
          Presents were the first thing to do, and it went by age of the grandchild down, from oldest to youngest (with me being oldest). After that, the women and girls retired to the kitchen and the men stayed in the front room and watched football. Any man who ventured into the kitchen got a stern warning from my grandmother, almost always worded as “This is woman’s work in here, you go back with the other men and enjoy yourself”. It sounds pleasant but it had a bit of a dangerous undercurrent, heh. She and the other women would, from time to time, come out and ask their respective husbands/sons/brothers if they needed a drink or anything, and then would go fetch them.

          Men were basically ordered to sit down and relax and put their feet up and eat nuts and drink beer. Dinner would be served, grandpa would carve the turkey, then all the men and boys would get First Choice, followed by the women who were still usually always puttering around with dishes, pans, cooking, etc. Afterward we’d all share stories of the year around the table and then after a while, with full bellies and armfuls of presents, leave to go back home.

          I tried to venture into the kitchen to help one year and my grandmother took me aside and told me that this was not my place and that it was not even vaguely masculine to even offer and that I should send my (then) fiancee in because she too was out of place in the front room. I did, much to the surprise of my soon to be bride, but she adapted well, being traditional herself. My grandmother ran a tight ship at Christmas. Heh.

          1. Remember kids:
            as any woman will tell you: “it’s not even vaguely masculine to even OFFER to help”

            1. Seriously what the actual fuck? Imagine this scenario

              Beartastico’s grandma cant lift the giant turkey that he himself killed and gutted, out of the oven.

              A young, foolish beartastico enters the kitchen to lend a hand.

              Not only is he scorned by his grandma, but his own father looks at him and thinks “wow what a pussy”

                1. Hold the fuck up, if this is the Patriarchy Christmas, how the fuck is granny telling him whats masculine?

                  Also, the Beartastico way of thinking is “be so fucking high T alpha and a dick to your wife and kids and they’ll respect you” lmao

  3. Sitting in a Tijuana bar in 2009. While I was dressed nicer than my normal mariachi attire, I was still wearing my sombrero and boots (and jeans and a button up shirt). I was looking, if I might say so myself, quite caliente’. This immediately attracted the attention of a couple of Honduran mamacitas, who made it a point to come over and say hola and we chatted for a while, nothing major, whatever.

    Girls leave and I turn back to my drink and staring out the window. Three pendejos walk over and just stand around my table. The biggest was a full, maybe, 1.7 meters and 77kg sopping wet. They were kind of sloppy dressed and clearly at least two of them were drunk.

    “We’d all be better off if you just leave, mate” (this apparently over women talking to me while ignoring them?)
    Sensing “Oh fuck, what now” I stood up and towered over them. The speaker gets these salsa type eyes.

    Me: (in semi-baja Mexicali accent) “Mind your own business, idiota”

    They do this weird look between them and turn and leave. Nothing more said, just a silent retreat. Strangest encounter I’ve ever had in my life regarding what I thought was going to turn into a cantina fight. I can only assume that they were flagrant cobardes. Not sure if this completely relates to the article, but even then, what, 9 years ago they struck me as cobadres airing grievances who think numbers give them superiority, and the moment they encountered push back they turned tail and fled like little cachorros.

    These are not the men who endured ICE on border in the 1990’s. Shamefully, these men are descended from the men who my grandparents stood shoulder to shoulder with as they jumped into the back of Cheech’s van. I was kind of ashamed to be only 2 generations removed from these people. Jej.

  4. This article reminds me of mi amigo, Phantasma De Jeffersono:

    Pushups. Ugh. At Guadalajara, Cinco De Mayo in ’15 I was more or less “chosen” to come up and compete with a niña in the pushup category. Only, because I was “a really big hombre, you probably do these in your sleep” he dj-ish guy had dos caliente niñas sitting on my back while little snowflake girl had no handicaps. We start and I just smoke her in reps. Hard. She gets up and what do you think she does? She gets all emotional on how “unfair” it was and that she “wasn’t ready” despite, just prior to the word “comienzo” she was all about niña power (she plays bullfighting, so she had an ego and an “I can take any hombre!” attitude). Like you could see the agua welling up in her eyes. And of course, the idiota DJ, blanco conquistadors for her, and we do it again, only this time I have tres girls down my back from shoulder (almost neck) to my culo. It was too much because they were at really bad places, like in the small of my back and it was really painful. I still managed to crank out seis. She gets cinco (she went after me this time) and then the MC “helps” her literally helps her, with seis, and declares her a winner because “a big hombre like me shouldn’t be tying little niñas like this”. Fucking push ups. I took him aside later when music was playing and called him a desperate little maricón. Later that day I see her and she’s telling her noodly niño “I beat him doing push ups!”

    I really hate blanco conquistadores! Jej.

            1. See, I like my mamacitas with a little more “junk in the culo” if you will. Why stop “on the border” when “south of the border” is where Im trying to be. jej,

            1. Funny you should ask.

              Theres a little place right in Cabo, needs a little work but, you know, us Mexicans can fix it up quick and cheap. The current owner tells me hes bringing in tres figures, TAKEHOME! A little elbow grease, some tequila, and I’ll be a member of the Mexican elite. jej

        1. No peleas, amigo. Spanish, it’s very portable and very easy language. I think of it as the language you learn first in order to prepare to learn a real foreign language. I grew up in a household of Scot Gaelic, all other languages seem easy. We have nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, instrumental, prepositional…and… Latin (and Sanskrit and some other Indo-European languages past and present) also deals with noun cases as does, I believe, German. Heh.

              1. Ah, si si I remember now, they put you in ESL classes in school, despite being a native speaker of Inglés.

    1. That hombre has got some pythons on him
      I bet he gets the chocha without having to help pay off the loans del studente…

      1. Yes! I love this! Mike dont take no shit!
        ..
        The look in his eyes. He wants to crush that fuckers skull

        1. He should hire Mike for those White House press conferences.
          I bet Acosta would have given up that microphone real quick.

              1. False dichotomy. Its not “be a drug dealer or op out” only. Try being old school Mexican. Its so rare these days that companies are falling all over themselves to get your attention.

                If you’re tall in shape, an “illegal” looking, you get the work visas left and right without even trying. American employers are fucking *thirsty* for Mexican men, and their workforce only has about 5% of Mexican employees with a social security number, normally those born here just to get citizenship, and even then…Well suffice to say that they’re looking outside their country for Mexican men who strike traditional labor cues in their budgets.

                There’s a reason I get up and head to Home Depot parking lots every morning, and it has nothing to do with being a lazy welfare collector (because hombre, I aint one) This isnt to say be anti-immigration, far from it, but dont lower your dignity to becoming Juan the Dealing Gang Banger as if its the only way to make a dollar. If it IS the only way for you, ok, whatever, but its not the “only” way as a rule for everybody else.

                Fuck being an ese.

    1. He’s still alive. They hit’em with over 80 yr, and he’s still alive! Well that’s bad luck for me, and bad luck for the world if you don’t assert our sovereignty.

    2. “According to Newsweek,the London-based publication bestowed the honorary title upon George
      Soros for being a “standard-bearer for liberal democracy” in opposition
      to President Trump and the wave of populism sweeping across Europe.”

      standard-bearer for liberal democracy?!?!?!

      Isn’t democracy, you know, MAJORITY RULE???
      George-o-saurus HATES the western majority and wants to subvert it at all costs!

      1. A London based-publication honored the man that crashed the British Pound?!? They used to execute people for that. Isaac Newton even had that job for awhile, and he put motherfuckers to death.

        Fuck England.

  5. I haven’t been here much lately but, it seems like there’s more Tasticos around here than Micheal J Fox could shake a stick at.

      1. Technically it could happen amigo, but his comments would look like this:

        aegaoe;ihg’loqgj’p013i4rpojkf’pqklgnj’l;a sjef’la;jwerf’lk jwe;flkjqwlkjh

  6. Just in case you weren’t counting, the new standard order is:
    1, 2, 6, Pi, 4, 5, 7, Phantom 12, 11

    As a PSA, I remind you that the inventor of this new number system is a civil engineer so, should you ever find yourself in Utah for any reason, mind your step.

    1. Thats how they get around having multiple wives. The olde “I dont know how to count” schtick. Bueno!

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